


After The Plot: Spring Forward, Fall Back

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Declarations Of Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a "thank you". It's a well deserved gift to show their appreciation for what Misha did for JJ. It's something that Danneel, Vicki and Jensen all know he'll appreciate ... so how long will it be before Jensen can mess it up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Plot: Spring Forward, Fall Back

**Author's Note:**

> This is an addition to a much larger story. I would suggest reading ["The Plot"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970) before reading this, because it is likely to not make much sense if read alone.

* * *

 

                “It’s a really nice night”

                “Yeah” is all Jensen can force out, because as Misha is looking up at the grey clouds, backlit by the moon—Jensen is looking at _him_.

                “And you’re sure the girls don’t mind us running off like this?” Misha finally turns down, ears pulling back with a soft grin when he meets Jensen’s eyes—ready and waiting for him.

                “It was their idea, Mish.”

                “I know …” Misha mumbles with a shrug. “I just wasn’t really thinking they’d set all this up so quickly. “

                Jensen nods, because he was a little surprised by that too. What started as some casual conversation after the beach, turned into full blown plans and both him and Misha being shoved out the door within an hour. Not that he doesn’t agree with the idea ... he was the one who brought it up after all. He was serious when he said Misha should be treated after what he did for JJ … what he did for him and Danneel. He just wasn’t expecting Danneel and Vicki to take it _as_ seriously as they did, none the less include him in all of it. But, in no time at all, he was being told that they had a beer tasting booked at a local brewery, as well as dinner and a suite at the Hilton. He supposes his wife knew Misha wouldn’t actually use the gifts if he was by himself, or even with Vicki; but if Jensen was there too—he could force him to enjoy himself. Also, this all kind of goes hand in hand with why they came here in the first place. He and Misha need to reconnect … rekindle—smooth over the wrinkles that synched up when they were in Minneapolis. The beach was a good start, but JJ’s close call made it come to a screeching halt. Thank god their wives are more perceptive about these things than he is. “Well, when they put their minds to something …”

                Misha only nods, quirking up his cheeks as he turns back to the sidewalk they’re currently moseying down. Their shoulders brush as they step in time with one another, not really speaking but not really having to either. They will only turn and catch the other’s eye every now and then, smiling before ultimately shying away—somehow feeling like a couple of dumb teens on their first date. Everything feels new, everything feels fresh and exciting … and _possible_. Yet, somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, Jensen feels such a comfortable ease that he can truly appreciate that sort of new excitement for the first time. There’s no doubt dulling the joy and there’s no worry putting a thin veil over the light beaming beside him. It’s all right there, uninhibited, untainted and pure. It’s all right there and it’s his. It’s all his.

***

                “You know, you’d think that this wouldn’t be as exciting as it is, considering how many damn hotels we stay in” Misha laughs, jumping up on the bed and bouncing around like a dorky little kid.

                “Yeah, but for once—we don’t have to leave for photo ops or autographs or anything.” Jensen grins at the man, eyes following him as he bobs up and down—finally busting up when Misha stumbles and topples in a heap across the covers.

                The man blushes a little as he rests on his hands and knees. “This isn’t as easy as it was when I was younger” Misha admits, chuckling before pulling himself upright once more to try again.

                Jensen rolls his eyes dramatically, pretending to be annoyed as he climbs upon the bed as well—listening to the springs creak under both of their weight. “You weren’t six feet tall back then” he offers, bouncing softly while bending his head down, worried that he’ll hit the ceiling if he goes any harder.

                “True … I also wasn’t in expensive suits with six inches of memory foam under my feet. It’s not very good for bed-jumping.”

                A little huff escapes Jensen’s throat before he grabs at Misha’s waist, yanking him in and sweeping him back just to body slam the man down into the comforter. Misha can only let out a squawk as he flails, and Jensen can only laugh—not even really sure why he did it, but _god,_ there really isn’t anything more fun than wrestling with your friend. _Misha especially._ Plus, they’re already acting like a couple of idiot kids … may as well keep with the theme.

                “ _Owww!”_ Misha groans, wriggling under Jensen’s weight but Jensen only slides further on top of him to pin his limbs down. “What the hell? You can’t just catch me off guard!”

                “Of course I can, that’s the whole point!” Jensen laughs, maneuvering himself easily as Misha struggles to get free.

                “I’m so going to get you back for that … if I can ever get up again” Misha mumbles, wincing as his knee pops loudly when he tries once more to pull it free. “ _Ouch_ … damnit!” Misha yelps again, contorting his face in ways that are all but pleasant; and the sight of the guy in actual pain is just enough to suck all the fun out of their little wrestling match.

                With a frown, Jensen slides off of him, falling to his side with a grunt. “Sorry—you okay?”

                Misha doesn’t answer—only stretches his neck and twists his head from side to side, wincing harder as it cracks and pops as well.

                “ _Damn_ … sorry, I was just messing around … I didn’t mean to …” Jensen kicks himself. This was supposed to be an evening _for_ Misha. This was supposed to be a big, grand _thank you_ for what he did at the beach. This was supposed to make him forget about how he got hurt in Minneapolis, not hurt him _more_. _Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot?_

                “It’s fine” Misha moans, slowly pushing himself up to his elbows, but he lets out another yip just before sliding back down again with a _thump._ “I’ll live.”

                Jensen feels worry and guilt flood over his body. _Did I really hurt him that bad?_ “What can I do? _Fuck_ … I didn’t mean to … tell me what to do?”

                With what looks like a lot of effort, Misha twists his head over to face him, seeming nearly on the brink of tears as he forces a smile. “I’m fine … really, it’s okay” he grits out, hissing as he tries to roll over to his side. Finally, just as Jensen collapses beneath the bulk of how he ruined everything, Misha’s eyes meet his—gathering at the corners as his cheeks crowd into them. The man suddenly shoots out his arms, splaying his fingers to give an empathic display of _jazz hands._ “ _Acting”_ he sings, grinning wide as Jensen gapes.

                “Asshole!” Jensen spits back, growling as Misha only laughs. With a generous shove, he sends the man rolling off the edge of the bed, but even as Misha clamors to the floor—his wheezing humor still rings through the air with vigor. “ _Fucker_ …” Jensen mumbles more quietly, falling again to his back and staring at the low, painted ceiling of the suite. The people below them probably think they’re killing each other up here—and if Misha tries that crap again, they just might be.

                “Oh come on! I said I’d get you back!” Misha giggles, pulling himself up from the floor to peek at the man from the end of the mattress. “You should have caught on right away!”

                “Well, _I didn’t_ ” Jensen pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

                Misha groans and rolls his eyes, finally crawling back onto the bed to hover over his friend. “Jen … what’s wrong?” he drones, putting on his dad-voice as he probes at the obvious issue that Jensen is pretending not to have.

                “Nothing” Jensen grumbles, turning his head to avoid Misha’s eyes.

                “Jensen?”

                “I thought I really hurt you …” Jensen finally concedes, feeling too drained to play it cool any longer, not that he’s playing _anything_ effectively right now.

                From the corner of his eye he watches Misha open his mouth to protest, but the man then shuts it, his own worry plaguing his features. “I’m sorry … that probably wasn’t the best way to mess with you considering the circumstances.”

                Jensen can only nod, still fighting to untangle his twisted gut. Misha getting hurt has been too serious of a matter lately … it’s just too soon to joke.

                “But like I said before … _I’m fine._ I’m really, really okay. _Now_ …” he slides his hand up Jensen’s chest, across his neck and into the valley below his jaw, finally pulling the man’s face back to greet his own. “Now, I know this has been hard for you … but you can’t always be wearing kid gloves around me. The best way for us to move past this is to actually _move_ past it. We need to start acting like things are normal again.”

                Jensen sighs, finally relaxing the strained tendons in his neck and sinking into the warmth of Misha’s fingers brushing across his skin. “I know” he whispers, pulling his arms apart and quickly putting Misha between them. They drop into one another—chest cradled against chest, just looking and remembering how _this_ is where they both need to be. _This_ is normal.

                “I feel like it’s been years since I really got to kiss you” Misha hums, lips brushing like a breeze over Jensen’s.

                His heart quickens, tapping hard against his ribs as he nods, feeling the exact same way, but too anxious to actually speak. For some reason, Jensen feels like if he does, he might just ruin things again.

                “We should probably fix that, _huh_?” Misha offers, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the breathless man below him, making it easy to feel the man’s second nod.

                With them both on the same page, they can fully crack open this book—no longer letting it collect dust on the shelf. Misha falls the final inch between their lips, letting them come together in a soft, sweet panic. It _has_ been too long. It _feels_ like it’s been too long. It _tastes_ like it and _sounds_ like it, and Jensen wants to lick and bite back every moment they lost . It’s not fair that any of _this_ was taken away from them. They did nothing to deserve that—Misha did nothing to deserve that. _God,_ he’s so, so glad that Misha is okay.

                “Would it—“ Misha gasps, breaking away for just a moment, but Jensen is arching up, trying to connect again. The struggled effort makes Misha smile. “Would it be horribly callous for me to say that I want you naked right now?”

                Jensen’s eyes widen, because he can suddenly feel Misha’s hard cock rubbing against his thigh, and he’s not sure how he was oblivious to it before—he was just truly lost in the moment. Yet, now that he’s coming back to the present, he realizes that _he too_ is amazingly hard, and getting naked is about the best idea he’s ever heard in his life. Jensen grins, reaching down to strip away his t-shirt in impressive time, quickly settling as his eyes settle back on his friend, waiting for him to do the same.

                Misha’s eyes darken wickedly just before dropping to rove over Jensen’s chest. With firm fingers, he traces the indents of his ribs, tickling his skin lightly, but only enough to send pleasurable shocks straight to his groin. “ _This_ … this is only _half_ naked, Jensen” the man finally whispers, hazy blues flicking back up to challenge the one underneath him.

                “You gonna make me do _all_ the work?” Jensen snips back, cocking up an eyebrow as he tilts his head towards their waists.

                “Why not? Might be a nice change” Misha laughs, and Jensen can only scoff before lurching up and rolling the man off of him.

                He’s soon bouncing to his knees so he can undo the button of his jeans, feeling a bit of pride as he senses Misha’s gaze upon him—knowing that watching Jensen strip himself is a major turn on for the guy. His jeans are quickly shoved down and Jensen has to shuffle back to his feet just to slide them all the way off. Misha remains below him, balanced on his side and licking his lips as he watches more and more of Jensen’s skin greet the walls of their hotel room. Yet, he doesn’t stay that way for long—because as soon as Jensen’s boxers slide down, Misha is up on his knees, taking Jensen into his mouth and almost making the man fall as he struggles to balance on the unforgiving memory foam. “Fuck! Mish!” Jensen yelps, throwing back his head as he swallows hard. A shaky hand quickly finds the wall so he can steady himself against his friend’s attack; and Misha _is_ attacking him. His lips slide up and down Jensen’s shaft with a rapid ease, contrasting harshly with the firm, violent press of his tongue along his friend’s tip. The occasional scrape of teeth is so deliciously painful that Jensen can’t help but fill the air with a slew of curses that is bound to be heard by all their neighbors, but he doesn’t care. _This feels so damn good._

Misha devours him a few minutes more before finally slowing down and then pulling off with a _pop._ “Is this where you want me, Jen?” he purrs, staring up at the man with heavy, lust filled eyes and Jensen can only whine with the sight. “Is that a yes or a no?” Misha laughs, giving the head of Jensen’s cock another little lick.

                Jensen has _a million_ ways he wants Misha. He wants him up against a wall—tight around his cock as he sinks into him over and over. He wants Misha behind him, bending him over in the shower, wrecking him from the inside out, and jerking him off until his screams echo off every single tile. He wants them fused together on a bed just like this one, both coming with nothing more than lazy friction and gentle kisses. He wants Misha in every way, both dirty and kind—painful and sweet. He just wants Misha, and _whatever_ that entails, that’s good with him.

                Jensen nods, reaching out to cup Misha’s cheek, and the man closes his eyes and nestles into his palm. Jensen smiles, loving how easily they can switch—how effortless it is to move between gritty blow jobs to tender moments and not a word has to be uttered between them for it to be okay. But the tenderness only lasts a moment longer, because then Misha is sucking him in again—more forceful and insistent than before. It seems like only seconds until Jensen’s knees are shaking and his entire body is trying to curl into itself—making _not_ falling over an even bigger challenge. But Misha doesn’t relent, even when he has to put his hand on Jensen’s hip to steady him—he just keeps sucking harder and harder until Jensen is swelling against his teeth.

                “Fuck!” Jensen hisses, running a hand through Misha’s hair and holding his head steady as he gives a stunted thrust into the man’s throat. Misha’s fingers dig into his skin as Jensen pours across his tongue, and every swallow from the man feels like a thousand pin pricks against Jensen’s tip. “Damnit! Shit!” Jensen breathes, eyes wide as he stares below— Misha is still taking him in like it’s going out of style. “Okay! Okay … _fuck!_ ”

                Misha laughs around Jensen’s still throbbing cock, finally sliding off and wiping the corners of his mouth. “You were quick” he quips, arching up a brow at the man quivering above him.

                “Been a while” Jensen wheezes, not even able to care that he just came like he was thirteen again, looking at his first nudey mag. _That was fucking amazing._

                “Well, it's been a while for me too … but let’s hope I can last a bit longer than you did.” Misha is still chuckling when he yanks on Jensen’s arm, making the man crumble to the sheets like a pile of loose sand meeting the waves.

                Jensen doesn’t even mind how his head bumps up against the headboard with the fall—the fact that he’s no longer having to use his muscles is just too blissful. All he can manage to do is creak open an eye as he finally rests crookedly against the pillows, a little surprised when he realizes that Misha is stripping. He didn’t even notice that the man had been dressed this entire time—and maybe it’s a good thing he was, because if he wasn’t … if he was naked and touching himself while he swallowed him down, Jensen would have taken even _less_ time to explode … and that probably _would_ have been embarrassing. With a content smile, Jensen watches every inch of fabric pull away, revealing soft tan skin and firm muscle mixed with tender curves. It’s the best show in town and Jensen has a front row seat.

                When Misha is finally completely bare, he crawls back towards Jensen’s boneless form—a predatory glint in his eye that manages to return at least _one_ bone to his body. “I’m going to take my time with you tonight” Misha hums—voice vibrating Jensen’s insides. “It’s been too long … I’m going to savor every second.”

                He let’s out a little gasp as Misha snakes his hands over his thighs and yanks him down, scissoring himself between them just to pull his hands free once more so they can glide over Jensen’s body again.

                “I love to feel you” he whispers, suddenly sounding a lot softer than he did just a moment ago. “I _really_ love to.”

                Jensen’s hand slips up to meet Misha’s fingers as they move down his stomach, intertwining for a moment, making the blues glance back to the green, and just soak up all the things that their skin fails in feeling, yet—Is felt more strongly than anything else.

                Misha still holds tightly to his hand, even as the other continues to roam, finally making its way down between Jensen’s legs.

                He can’t help but yip as the man spreads him apart with his fingers, knowing that their hopscotch between love and lust has just tumbled head first into the latter once more. Wide eyes blare down at Misha’s grinning face, waiting for him to move—knowing what comes next but still nervous like he always is. This might not _ever_ be easy … opening himself up for someone. It takes Jensen longer than it probably should to steady his breathing whenever they’re like this; but Misha is always patient and _always_ gives him what he needs, even if that’s just holding still.

                “Just tell me when you’re ready, Jen” Misha whispers, looking back to find his pants still draped on the end of the bed. He frees his fingers from Jensen’s hold and reaches into the back pocket, feeling around until he finally emerges holding a small, foil packet of lube.

                Jensen has to chuckle at that. “Well, aren’t you prepared?” he laughs, still buzzing with nerves but curious all the same.

                Misha only shrugs and tears open the pack with his teeth, squirting a little droplet out onto his fingers. “I knew you were coming, but I didn’t know if we were going to get a chance to do anything like this … especially if we had the kids with us, so I didn’t want to lug around the whole bottle. I just thought this was a good alternative. _Just in case_.”

                Jensen laughs some more as he shakes his head—happy that Misha planned in advance but still amused that the guy was hoping to score while on a family outing. “You’re a dirty old man” he finally mumbles, getting breathless again as he watches Misha rub the lube around his fingers.

                “And you wouldn’t have me any other way” Misha counters, lowering his hand once more and hastily sinking a tip into Jensen’s tightened body.

                With fingers tangled into the sheets, Jensen hisses with the burn—knowing that it might take him longer to loosen up this time since it’s been a while since they’ve gotten to do this. But as always, Misha takes it slow—reading his body like it’s printed in Ariel and bolded for emphasis. Five minutes pass before Misha is even to the first knuckle, but the soft strokes he gives Jensen’s cock make the time fly. Soon, his whole finger is sliding in an out, matching the pumps and the rhythm he has made for them. Jensen can’t believe he’s as hard as he is right now—considering that amazing blow job, but then again … this is _Misha_ , and he’s been making him feel younger than he is all night. _Hell_ , he’s been making him feel that way for years.

                Without warning, but not without welcome, Misha slips in a second finger—and in no time at all, a third, stretching Jensen out like taffy on pulls. Yet, time has seemed to switch itself around, going from _too fast_ to _too slow_ and Jensen barely recognizes himself as the words slip out of his mouth. “Put it in me … please, Mish.”

                The room grows silent as Misha’s grin lights it up. Soon, his fingers fall away, making Jensen feel too empty and alone, but the sight of the man rubbing more lube along the tip of his own, purpled cock is enough to make Jensen patient—knowing that he won’t feel this way for long. And again, it’s like Misha can read his mind, because he hurries, steadying himself outside of Jensen’s opening in a matter of seconds, and pushing in after a second more.

                Stars, flashes, sparks and shrinking-exploding rings fill up his vision. He’s nothing more than the nerves currently greeting Misha’s hot skin and the delicious full feeling that’s swimming over his body. In spite of all his claims in taking his time, Misha moves quickly—more quickly than normal, probably underestimating how much _he_ missed all this too

                It doesn’t take long before Jensen is holding himself steady against the mattress, giving Misha a solid wall to ram into—and with every hit, the man’s face crumbles a little more. Jensen revels in the wreckage of his friend, letting it somehow compose him among his own debris. He feels his own stomach coil with fire and he knows he’s close, but he doesn’t want to miss Misha toppling over first; it the most beautiful destruction he could ever dream to witness.

                “Jen—“ Misha breathes, eyes bursting wide suddenly as he reaches out to pull Jensen up by the back of the neck. Jensen helps him, curling over himself so their foreheads are soon resting upon one another, moving in time with each one of Misha’s thrusts. “You … you said you loved me, before” Misha gasps, gripping at the short strands of Jensen’s hair, pushing in harder as he shuts his eyes, and Jensen doesn’t think the man has ever looked more amazing.

                “I do” he whispers, sucking in more air as his friend moves inside him, filling him up with pleasure and absolutely _everything_ he wants.

                “Say it again” Misha pleads, eyes still closed and his voice, sounding on the verge of a cry.

                Jensen smiles, reaching out to hold onto Misha’s wrist, needing as much contact as possible because he wants the man to know that he _means_ this—he means all of it. “I love you, Misha.”

                Misha is gone, moaning as his head falls to Jensen’s shoulder, pulling him in as he shudders his hips between them. Yet, in the midst of his delirium, he still somehow manages to move his other hand into the sweaty space amid their stomachs, gathering Jensen up and giving him a few, loose strokes—causing his friend to follow right behind, emptying the little he has left out over Misha’s fingers.

                They both stay there, tangled and gasping—too sensitive to even contemplate moving, so they don’t … not for some time. Not until Jensen feels his joints start to ache from the awkward position they found themselves in. He lays a soft kiss along Misha’s shoulder before he finally pulls away, collapsing backward onto the bed and flinching as the movement forces Misha to pull out of him all too quickly.

                “Shit!” Misha hisses, shivering all over with the sudden separation. “Give me some warning next time!” But all Jensen can do is laugh— even _with_ warning, Misha always reacts this way … like losing Jensen from around him is more pain than it’s worth; as if they should just stay connected for all of time.

                There are some days when Jensen wouldn’t mind that at all.

                With some calming breaths, Misha finally smiles too, but only after swatting at Jensen’s leg—making the man move it out of the way so he can free himself from the mess of limbs. Soon, he’s falling down beside him on the bed and they’re both practically drooling onto the sheets with how drained they feel.

                “We really need to find a way to do that more often” Jensen chuckles, reaching down to run his hand up Misha’s side.

                “Sure … we’ll just get to humping between takes or between every fan photo. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind waiting on us.”

                Jensen laughs louder, ignoring how much it actually hurts his stomach to do so—he feels like he just did a thousand sit ups. “Shut up … you know what I mean.”

                Misha hums softly, and Jensen grins as he finally turns to look into his friend’s eyes, knowing that whether they’re like _this_ —naked and messy, or whether they’re clothed and standing several feet apart … it really doesn’t matter in the end. He’s just happy that the man looks at him this way—like he is something worth waiting for. Misha sighs before lifting his hand to cup Jensen’s cheek once again, tickling the reddened stubble with his thumb. “I wish we could do this more often too.”

                The sad tone hiding in Misha’s voice is enough to turn Jensen onto his side, reaching out to pull the man in close, close enough to drop a dozen light kisses all over his face. He dances his lips across Misha’s cheeks, his nose, his chin—laying double over the tiny scar creasing the top of his friend’s mouth. He kisses him until Misha begins to laugh, squinting and dimpling with all the attention. Jensen finally pulls away after a few more, grinning that _he_ was the one to fight back the sadness—wanting to always be able to do that. He never wants to grow too old to win this fight. “I don’t care if we’re like _this_ or wearing fucking parkas, Mish. I just want you.”

                With the amount of kisses Misha returns, Jensen guesses that the feeling is mutual.

               

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that this was a welcome respite from the previous addition. I know that some fluff and loving was overdue. Let me know what you guys thought!
> 
> For more Cockles and Destiel angst, fluff and smut, check out the rest of my Ao3.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at: [castiel-left-his-mark-on-me](http://castiel-left-his-mark-on-me.tumblr.com/)


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